The other day I told M that Emito could be a ballet dancer. I expected a playful protest ala "What? Not my son the future all-star bla bla bla," but instead he said, "You know, I was thinking the same thing myself!"

For months we've noticed that Em really likes to explore what his body can do. He spins. He runs in place. He does downward-facing-dog, just for the heck of it. He stretches this way and that. And he climbs. Climbs and climbs. But this past week he's added a new move to his repertoire - walking on tippy toes. He does it all the time.

Of course, who knows what that really means. Will he end up at the ABT? Oh, probably not. But I am signing him up for a music/movement class so he can explore his inner Baryshnikov. Plus, it'll be motivation for me to fight my inner slug and get out of the house. Not something that I've been very good at lately.

One of my goals as a mom is to be active with my kid. To go swimming. Canoeing. Skiing. To kick around a soccer ball and to shoot hoops. I've been anything but active for the past five years, though, and when you're that long out of it, it's hard to get back into it. Of course, we don't need to do adventures in x-treme sporting just yet. But right now, I have trouble finding the inclination to just get us out for walk.

Several times over the past year, I was this close to signing us up for swimming lessons. But I never followed through, because I couldn't get up the nerve to trot out my flabby, oh-so-white self in a bathing suit. I have one more chance to do it before the summer comes. I hope I don't chicken out this time.

In the meantime, I'll be bringing my tiny dancer to movement class. It's a parent-child thing, so at least I'll be doing something. Hopefully it'll be the break-out from this sedentary rut that I so desperately need.

I'm having a hard time trying to manage my work and my home life, and I'm about at the end of my rope with it. Things started getting especially tough about a month ago when we had a gap in day care coverage. I work three days a week, so when I have to stay home one or more of those days, it makes it tough to finish the work that I need to do. For the past several weeks, I've barely been able to get into the office at all:

Week before Christmas - no day care, so my husband and I took turns covering. I got into the office for less than one and a half days total.

Week of Christmas - I took some time off around the holidays and made it into the office for one and a half days that week.

Week of New Year's - because of the holiday and a couple of short transition days at our new day care, I made it to the office one and a half days total.

Second week of Jan - almost back to normal, but I had a doctor's appointment one day, and didn't get into the office until 11:00. I was able to get quite a bit done that week, but it was all catch-up. Meanwhile, new work was still mounting.

This week - this could have been the week where things started to get back to normal, but we had a snow emergency on Monday, thus no day care. This morning (Tues) Emito woke up with a raspy cough and a fever. So now, chances for getting into work tomorrow are iffy.

At this point, I've got so much work backed up that I get nauseous thinking about it. And my enthusiasm for my job is seriously waning. Each day I grow more weary of being pulled in two directions. I have daily fantasies about quitting.

But it's not that easy. It would be hard to give up the paycheck and the automatic contributions to my retirement account, especially since we hope to move to a new house in the next year or two. If I were to quit my job, we might be forced to stay put.

I don't know what to do. Well, one thing I do think about -- and have for a long time -- would be to work for myself somehow, something with my art. It wouldn't be easy though, especially with a toddler at home. And M has never been particularly keen on the idea - mostly because it would mean an indefinite lack of income (on my part, anyway). Not that he's not against the idea entirely, he just wants me to keep my day job while I explore new options. I understand where he's coming from, but with my current schedule, I just don't see that happening. There will always be something else demanding my attention.

BLEH. I hate the feeling of having my feet stuck while my arms are yanked around. I love being a mom, and I treasure my time with Emito. I also want to be creative/productive and contribute to the household finances in some way. I just feel there's got to be a better way. Question is -- Will I ever find it?

OK, so I wrote the following post 3 weeks ago, but I'm putting it up, because everything still applies.

So much has happened, I don't know where to begin. So, I guess I'll just start.

Right now I'm working 3 days a week and I'm home with my boy (who just turned 1!) the other days. I feel that I'm doing pretty well with the whole mom thing, doing "OK" at my job, and everything else is shit. Housework, keeping up with friends, creative stuff - those things are hardly happening right now. They matter to me, but I'm not fitting them in. I mean, you saw what happened to my blog. And I REALLY like blogging and connecting with all of you guys. I just haven't been able to get it together.

Emito (that picture over there is over 3 mos. old, because I haven't downloaded anything from my camera in ages) is waking up now, so I'm going to have to wrap. Sorry to be such a complainer, especially on my returning post. Truly, I'm not unhappy. I am, in fact, happier than I've ever been. A bit frazzled and exhausted but very very very happy. Just trying to figure out the whole balance thing - an age old dilemma, I know.

More soon. I've had posts popping up in my head lately, so I think my blogging voice is back...

Ok, back in the present moment. It's Halloween so here's another pic. A current one this time! I bought the costume and the candy at 5:15 this evening. Typical me. But I managed to pull it off, and I think Em had a lot of fun. He even kept the hood on for several minutes - a minor miracle since he never never wears anything on his head.

Alright, now I'm off to chop chop chop - preparation for tomorrow's day care lunch.

Other quick bits before I go:

I'm still nursing. Mostly because I haven't come up with a plan for how I'm going to wean. It doesn't seem as though Emito will want to stop any time soon. I'm kind of hoping we'll be done by 18 months.

We're trying again. I was hoping to be pregnant by my 40th birthday, but it's not looking good. More on that soon.

Oh, and I still owe you an ending to that birth story - if there's anyone out there who's still interested!

I wish I had the power to blog telekinetically. If that were the case, I would have had this post up months ago.

Alas, I don't, but here it is - finally:

My due date was Mon. September 18th, and as you may recall, in the days prior I was scrambling to get things ready for my son's arrival. And though I had been experiencing some minor cramping over the weekend, I really didn't think it was anything significant. So come Monday, I went off to work. And things went fine. A little cramping here and there, but nothing much. In the afternoon, I decided to do more packing for my upcoming office move. I stayed until 6pm doing that. Right before I left, I decided to lift a giant bag of trash into the dumpster.

On the drive home I started to feel as though I had heartburn. But I didn't give it much thought. Even though I knew that the onset of labor could feel like heartburn or stomach cramps. So when I got to the house, I told M that I had a stomach ache and that I was going to lie down. As the hours passed, the cramping became more rhythmic, and perhaps a bit more intense, but I still did not think much of it. It was still very tolerable, so I chalked it up to pre-labor cramping not actual contractions. Yeah. In hindsight, I think I was more afraid of labor than I wanted to admit, and I was in denial that it was actually happening. M checked on me a couple of times, but I assured him that I was fine.

But come midnight, I finally realized that the cramping was too strong and too fast (less than 5 min apart) so I called for M and told him that perhaps this was it. Just then, I felt a sharp jab in my lower abdomen and then a popping sensation. I jumped off the bed and a couple seconds later, fluid hit the floor. Not a whole bunch, but it was enough of a splash to tell me that my water had broken.

And then things got crazy. After my water broke, the contractions got really strong and really fast (less than two minutes apart), and I started to panic. I went into the bathroom and got on my hands and knees and then sort of froze in terror. I told M that I was really afraid and that I didn't know what to do. I was now moaning and rocking as the contractions came. M decided to play it safe and call an ambulance.

We can practically see the firehouse from our yard, so the EMTs were at our door about a minute later. I was wearing nothing but a skimpy nightgown, but they wouldn't let me take the time to put on anything else. So I went out the door with no underwear, no shoes, nothing but the nightie. Thankfully my hospital bag was packed, so M grabbed that and we were off.

The ambulance ride was nuts. They clocked my contractions at 86 seconds apart. The gurney was really narrow and I had to cling on to keep from rolling off at each turn. The contractions hurt like hell, and I was sweating buckets. I had my legs up and splayed which felt really weird, because there was a giant window at the rear of the ambulance. The guys assured that people couldn't see in, but at that point I really didn't care all that much. They kept checking to see if the baby was crowning (very possible with contractions that close), but he wasn't yet.

When we got to the hospital, I got to skip triage, and they sent me straight to a delivery room. Within minutes, a team of medical professionals were in there -- buzzing around, hooking me up to monitors, taking my history, etc. They told me someone would be in soon to examine me. Contractions were still strong and fast. I'm a little blurry here -- I remember doctors/med students asking me questions. Sometimes I could talk; sometimes I couldn't. Then at some point they did a cervical check. I don't remember if that hurt. It all sort of blends together as general misery. I figured that I must be near the transition phase of labor, seeing as I barely had seconds to rest between each contraction.

Um. Yeah.

After the exam (I don't remember who did it), I was told (and I don't remember by whom) that I was one centimeter dilated. One. Centimeter. I couldn't believe it. I had been one at one centimeter for two weeks already. How could I be going through all that and just be one centimeter?

So they asked me if I would like to have an epidural. "Yes," I said, "Yes, yes, I would."

They put in the order. My epidural was administered at one centimeter. I'm a toughie, eh? But the contractions were truly strong. It's just that my cervix was being stubborn.

Anyway, twenty minutes after the anesthesiologist left my room, the pain started to subside. And then I felt no pain at all. I could see the contractions on the monitor, but I felt absolutely nothing. The nurses rolled in a bed for M. and told us to get some sleep - they'd be back in a few hours to check on me.

M crawled into bed and was out in minutes. But I didn't feel much like sleeping, even though I knew that I should. Instead I just watched the monitors and the clock. It was 1 am.

At that point, I had no idea when the real fun would start. All I could do was to watch and wait.

Baby M. entered our world on Tuesday at 9:58 a.m. weighing 8 lbs, 2 oz. I'm eager to share more details, but right now I am exhausted and having a tough time finding words. Let me just say that life as a new mom is more challenging and more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.

He is doing great.

I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

And right now, I can scarcely remember life before this boy.

Thank you, everyone, for your well wishes. Thank you for helping me get through to this moment.

I had a cervical check 10 days ago, and I was 1 cm dilated and 60% effaced. I had another one today. Same. My due date is Monday, but I'm not getting a sense that things will be happening soon. You never know, but I'm thinking not.

Things are coming together, though, in my typical foot-draggy way. Work is getting to a point where it'll be OK for me to step away. My part of the book chapter has been submitted. Baby laundry done. Kitchen getting close (I think the contractors will probably be there to greet us when we come home from the hospital, though).

One thing I didn't mention earlier is that my Dad had heart surgery (aortic valve replacement) a couple of weeks ago. He's recovering quite nicely, considering it's a rather significant procedure. They're not sure that it will solve all of his cardiac problems, but it's a start. I'm just so glad that he's finally getting help. Several months ago, he resisted until he was at the point of collapse. Now, he's all about getting treatment and following his regimen. Thank God. We want him to be around to watch this baby grow up.

Oh, and that reminds me. M. turned 39 a few weeks ago -- a weird milestone for him, because that's how old his mother was when she died. And though it's been 25 years, her absence tends to make his big life events bittersweet. I know those of you who have lost a parent feel the same. And that's why I'm so glad that my father finally took some action.

Ummmm, okay. That's about it I guess. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens.

Last night I felt some crampiness down low. It was nothing really, just a bit of pressure, but it sort of made me go, hmm. As in, hmm, things are actually going to happen and kinda soonish. As in 25 days from now, give or take.

And that made me feel a little panicky, because I still have so much to do. But this is the way I am. I get things done -- I always come through, but usually after going like a madwoman right up until the end. I'm just one of those people, and I don't know how to change it. My best friend gets everything done WELL in advance of a deadline. It makes her crazy not to. Me? I need the pressure, the urgency to get inspired, get motivated, whatever. I've always been that way.

Currently I'm trying to wrap up about a half dozen work projects, and I'm trying to document everything I do for the person who will be filling for me, AND I'm trying to clean out and box up everything in my office, because my group is moving out of the building while I'm away. On top of that, a month ago I agreed to co-author a book chapter with one of my colleagues, and I haven't made nearly enough progress on that. Oh, crap and I still need to meet with HR to plan my leave. And then there's my house. Certain things are out of my control, but there is clutter everywhere, and I do want it to be reasonably put together when visitors start arriving.

I'm trying not to overdo it, but I'm also trying not to be in a situation where I'm scrambling to finish things while I'm having contractions. We'll see. It would be nice, if I had everything pretty well in place, at least a little bit before the big event. But I'm probably kidding myself. I guess somehow it'll all come together in my own kooky way.

So, my OB's office called this morning for two reasons. One, to check on my puffiness, which is pretty much fine. And two, to let me know that I tested positive for Group B Strep. This is a test that they do late in pregnancy to see if you've got a particular type of flora living in your rectum or vagina. Apparently somewhere between 10 and 40 percent of all women do. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones. They don't classify the presence of this bacteria as infection, because it doesn't do any harm (at least not to healthy adults). Instead they say that you are "colonized." Great. I am colonized. More specifically, my bits are colonized. Nice.

Truly, it's not a big deal (they tell me), but I will need to be put on antibiotics when I go into labor, because there is a small chance that it could cause a serious infection in the baby. The antibiotics will essentially eliminate that risk. The hospital staff will, however, keep an eye on him after the birth to make sure that he is OK in that respect. The other thing is, when labor starts, I might not hang around at home as long some women might, because they'll want to set up my IV early on. So, all of it's dealable I guess. But still. Bleck.

The other "ick" is the Red Sox. Good lord, when I posted a few days ago, I never imagined it would get as bad as it has. So I guess I will, Katie, take on the Tigers as my second favorite team. Anyone but the Evil Empire. It's just too much to stomach!

Anna! I had the pleasure of meeting Anna from Right vs. Easy a couple of weeks ago. Oh, and I had such a nice time. She is just lovely lovely lovely in so many ways. Plus she has an art background, so it was interesting for me to hear what she does in terms of that. Especially, since I haven't done a thing in ages. I still love to hear about it, though. That and, of course, the recent birth of her son -- a triumph after years of heartbreak. We did reflect back on some of the things that we'd been through -- not to dwell on them, but to recognize that they were still with us and had shaped us in some way. But it was also nice to be seeing those events as part of the past, rather than an ongoing, painful reality. Most of all, though, it was just good company, great conversation, a wonderful time. Anna, you are a delight! I truly hope that our paths cross again sometime.

My Shower. It happened recently, and it was really terrific. I had decided that it should be small -- just a few close friends & family, but boy, did that little group shower me with stuff. It was pretty overwhelming. I made a tiny thank you speech at the end and got a little blubbery. It was just so incredible to be surrounded by loved ones who were celebrating the imminent birth of my baby. So incredible.

My Feet. Are puffy. And they have been for about a month. But it hasn't been too much of a concern, because my BP and urine tests have been consistently normal.Yesterday, though, I had my foot resting on top of a box that was under my desk, when I noticed that it felt a little ouchy. I looked down and saw that the side of my foot (which was kind of hanging off the edge of the box) was bulging out pretty badly. Seriously, it looked like Frankenfoot. That freaked me out a bit, so I called my OB and went in for a quick check up. The crazy bulge went down while I was driving in, but I was still pretty swollen when I arrived at her office. All my tests checked out OK (BP 122/68 and no protein in the pee) but she sent me home to rest. So I did, and putting my feet up made a huge difference.

My Kitchen. The picture shows what it looked like a few days ago. It's a little better now. The guys have closed in the walls (no plaster yet, though) and have started to work on the flooring. Yes, it was kind of crazy to do a complete kitchen remodel so close to my due date, but unfortunately that's the way M. and I operate. We've been talking about it for years. Now finally, with the realization that it would be nuts to try to do it with a baby/toddler/little kid around, we've brought someone in to do it. Oh, and it so needed it. Every surface was tired and in disrepair. And there were layers and layers of wall coverings and flooring and paint -- it was time to strip it all out. And the guys have been great -- working really hard to finish before the baby comes. Of course, there's always a chance that it could be tomorrow, but let's hope not!

Boys, Boys, Boys! There are three little boys who live across the street from me, and God, they are just so cute. They are from Haiti, they are often dressed in short-sleeved button-down shirts and cargo shorts, and their hair is shaved pretty much down to nothing. And their faces -- oh just so damn cute!! I would guess that they are 8, 6, and almost 4. Right now I'm watching them play whiffle ball in their driveway and arguing (in French) as to whether a ball was fair or foul. Yesterday I watched them do a little song and dance thing on their front steps. Another day, when my husband was out weeding in the yard, they ran over and insisted on helping! I just want to squish them, they are so adorable. I guess it's good that I'm finding little boys so charming these days, seeing as I've got one on the way. I used to have a hard time envisioning being a mom to a boy (what the hell do I know about boys?), but I'm seeing it more and more.

The Red Sox. I don't often write about how much I love the Sox, but oh, I do love them. I wasn't always such a huge fan. It's been just over three years now, I'd say. I "discovered" them around the same time I started having reproductive problems. It was the perfect distraction. I could go to Fenway Park, and my whole world would go away. All that mattered was the location of the next pitch. Or where the ball would land. Or whether the runner would make it to the bag before the tag was applied. It was great. And it was really good for my marriage -- to have this thing to focus on and get excited about in the midst of our hard times. Well, M and I are in a real upswing right now, but our poor Sox are kind of struggling. They had been doing great all year, but now they are slipping. They are about to play the Yankees 5 times in a row, and they're already off to a shaky start. Blech. Oh well, I guess the rough patches make the comebacks all the more fun and exciting. Such is life.

One month. 'til my due date. There's no knowing when it'll actually happen. Of course, I have no say. Six weeks tops, I suppose. And I am excited. I can't wait to meet this much anticipated baby. The one that finally (oh, God, please) made it through.